Twenty five years ago, when I first went to Alaska, I did not own any Gore-Tex. I might not have even known what it was. This, my friends, is hard for even me to believe. I had some crappy discount hiking shoes, a sieve-like rain jacket. Even if I’d been aware of better gear, I would not have been able to afford it. Despite those deficiencies, over the course of a month with two friends I had the time of my life.

Before we left for Alaska I wrote about being unhappy it was going to be cold while we were there. Not Arctic-cold like in the winter, but I was leaving my hot and humid summer for a place where I’d have to be layered up with clothes.

I’d fish in a sewer pipe or a garbage dump if it promised the chance of a trophy catch, but all other things being equal, fishing is better when you do it in beautiful places. In the past 12 months, I’ve fished in the crystal blue waters off of Guatemala and in the rock-strewn rapids of an Amazonian tributary, but by far the most scenic place I fished during that period (or any period, for that matter) was at Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park, Alaska.